


The Nutcharacker

by Pokey



Category: Nußknacker und Mausekönig | Nutcracker and the Mouse King - E. T. A. Hoffmann, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AS IS PROPER, Business suits had yet to rise to power, But Drosselmeier is always on the ball, Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Clockwork Gadgetry abounds, Dysfunctional Family, Hopefully it'll be done in time, How convenient is it that Frisk and Chara are so close to Fritz and Clara, I Tried, I might add links to the music for the parts of the story where it works, Papyrus being rad, Pseudo dysphoria, Purple Prose, Takes place around the 1850s, That's the best coincidence, The summary is bad i know, Victorian, give it a chance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 03:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokey/pseuds/Pokey
Summary: Christmas is here once again, and Chara is plenty enthused, despite there being even fewer good presents this year -- of course, as one gets closer to adulthood, they should learn to expect disappointment. They receive many interesting gifts nonetheless, including this... erm. This pale, ugly little wooden man that is used to crack nuts. Thank you...?(An adaptation of the original story by E.T.A. Hoffman, starring Undertale characters.)((I'm looking to collab with other Undertale fic writers for this story,so if you're interested, send me a comment, and I will look into it.))





	The Nutcharacker

**Author's Note:**

> They get their hands on the nutcracker in Chapter 2, which is almost done as of my typing this.

It was a cold and snowy night. Christmas Eve night, to be precise. It had finally come, and joy, joy, for Chara feared their patience would sooner snap, like thoroughly aged thread. Currently, they are resting outside their family's home, alongside their elder sibling, Frisk. The two sit mostly in silence, watching the snowfall, gazing out into the forest. On occasion, the elder child would lightly chisel at the silence by changing positions in their seat, then immediately jump on the opportunity to squeeze a comment through the cracks, before the quiet could reassert itself.  
  
"What do you think Uncle Drosselmeier will bring us?" While Chara feels the same level of excitement they do, regarding the possibilities, they feel that there is, quite frankly, no sense in making speculation. Building up this fantasy with the only member of their family that they legitimately like, with whom their demeanor becomes as what they assume is like that of a best friend, working together to construct this monolithic dream, one of toys, and delicious candies, and mechanical things, marvels of machinery and engineering that most children could only dream of? Well, that will only serve to make the passage of time seem that much slower.  
  
"I don't know." Chara shifts their own position, so their back is to Frisk somewhat-- by moving in this manner, they shall make it known that further comments will not be able to reach them. They remain somewhat tense in their posture, to refrain from making any sudden movements, thus giving Frisk another chance to tempt them with their idealism. Eventually, Frisk breaks their gaze, and returns their attention to the view. At that, they let their body completely relax, and the chilly quiet that had been threatening to take hold freezes over once more.  
  
The moonlight is strong tonight, casting a sharp glow over the land. The snow covering everything for all as far that they could see glimmers with a slight blue tint, twinkling where it catches the light in particular. The pine trees darken the horizon with their countless numbers, a green-blue ring of needles and timber surrounding them and the road that leads far off, into the depths of civilization, from which Chara's relations traveled, passing through the relatively small break in the forest, where the oft-traveled path lie, seldom collecting precipitation due to the overhanging conifers shielding it from the elements.  
  
...Though they can't say their hearing is the best, the sudden sound of a shoe clomping against the old deck proves quite jarring, after all that time wherein the ambient temperature itself was the only provider of noise (though little it was).  
  
"The Christmas tree is ready, children," comes the voice of Mother from somewhere above them. Chara turns to face the speaker, and finds themselves squinting at the bright oranges, reds and greens that now spill out of their home and onto the front porch, revealing the wooden paneling to be a faded beige, and Chara's frilly costume to be a lovely shade of rose, rather than the multitudinous shades of blue they all could initially have been mistaken to be. Frisk's dapper suit had been blue from the beginning, but up until this point, it could have been mistaken for a deep, inky black, rather than the furry, dark blue jacket it truly was. The light within caused a velvety sheen to appear, streaks of blue running along various edges of their outfit where the candlelight caught it.

The children blink a multitude of times, their pupils rapidly shrinking, having been overloaded; the number of light sources has increased from one incredibly soft glow to a countless amount of warm brightness. Nonetheless, they allow their mother to issue them indoors, rubbing their eyes all the while, and once they have suitably adjusted to the increase in ambient lighting, they can see all of their individual sources.  
  
Their eyes following the wooden paneling of the manor's first floor, they find that there lies a large pine tree, nearly catching the ceiling with its height, and grazing the banister with its girth. Further to Chara's left, there is the fireplace as usual. Its superstructure is composed of a fine cobble, and every stone has notably been polished to a reflective sheen. Outside the sooty enclosure, the hearth projects out a ways: atop the large platform, a series of garland strips lie. Long and elegant, they drape over the sides like a fine silk, and as Chara saunters closer, they can see the occasional bit of holly peeking out from between the thin trails, in addition to the little assorted decorations being held aloft by the conifer strands. The mantel now has a fine looking wreath adorning it as well, in lieu of the usual game. The garland ring's grooves and finer details are defined in a flattering color of orange by the roaring flame beneath, crackling with warmth, radiating cheer throughout the home.  
  
"Chara, dear," their mother calls, beckoning them over to join the riff-raff. Quietly sighing, the child drags themselves away from their little bubble of personal holiday cheer, trying to find a comfortable seat while making themselves as small as possible. The love they feel for their extended family, while it does exist for a select few, is for the most part a farce. What they would give to be whisked away to a world that did not expect so much, yet so little, of them: a world where their future self didn't have to worry exclusively about how much longer they could continue living before their corset forever destroyed their innards, and could instead focus on improving their actual abilities.  
  
"My darling granddaughter! Oh my stars, dear, she looks so lovely I can scarcely believe it." Chara smiles extremely weakly as their grandmother rests her hand on their mother's shoulder, beside herself with pride at seeing the 'blossoming young lady'. Unfortunately, the two distinguished ladies quickly get distracted, forgetting Chara with all the speed of a locomotive, and the youth is once again reminded of how pointless and stupid this whole charade seems.  
  
"I doubt that you could find yourself so jarred by this turn of events if you had ever thought to visit me on a more consistent basis," they whisper, wishing they could stomp off and soak their head clean of this makeup, more and more with every passing moment. It isn't as if anybody would notice.  
  
They sneer, watching their predecessors titter and chat on endlessly like a pair of songbirds, and sink lower into their chair in protest, glowering back at them. Their left hand finds itself resting upon the coffee table, rather than the armrest, and they subconsciously begin to drum their fingers against it, quickly forgetting what exactly it is that these people disgrace Chara with their presence for; as it stands, Chara knows that what they're looking at is a glimpse as to what the future holds for them, and something tells them that they should sooner find themselves hurling their body off a bridge.  
  
Their sour mood is lightened somewhat when their elder sibling drops by. Darting their eyes back and forth, they slowly slink over to their little sibling, their shoulders squared, taut with tension. They delicately take a seat, placing themselves in the other armchair, directly across the little table from Chara.

"This is absolutely dreadful, eh?" The endless din Chara felt they could scarcely ignore suddenly falls to the back of their mind, as now they actually feel like a conversation with themselves as a participant could happen for real.  
  
Chara closes their eyes, and nods slightly. A moment later, and they scowl, rapping their individual fingers harder against the polished wood; a small group of family members have just been laughing particularly loudly at a joke of some sort, and the sound is particularly grating to their already agitated mind.  
  
"I believe that I should prefer it having been only those whom we know personally attending this tripe. I can scarcely remember the serene environment the two of us had been enjoying no more than thirty minutes ago, my head is so full of these cretins' nonsense." Chara stares downward, mentally tracing the swirling, twisting patterns that adorn the rug at their feet.  
  
Chara looks up, having felt their sibling begin to stare a hole in their head, and sigh at the elder's disapproving expression.  
  
"Yes, yes, thank you. I know." They go into a slight mocking tone. "'Everyone deserves a chance, Chara', 'don't cast stones while living in a glass house, Chara,' 'red sky morning, sailor's warning, Chara.'" They turn their body to face Frisk head on, and point at their sibling, a smirk briefly twitching onto their face, seeing the confusion borne of the last, unrelated quote.  
  
"I don't like these people. They could sooner perish in a barn fire that I'd weep for them." Frisk snickers, slightly, pushing their palm into their face, hiding their eyes as they shake their head. Chara smiles in response, and right as they're about to ask what it is that they find so humorous, it is announced that gifts were to be accepted now.  
  
The two children quickly struggle their way out of their chairs, not even sparing each other a glance before attempting to join their cousins. Chara can't even bring themselves to be disgusted by them in this moment, for their adoration of the material object consumes them on a night so special as this. It dulls their sharp wit, making them act no different from their peers; they're rendered a greedy little thing, easily sniffing out which packages belong to them with the prowess of a bloodhound, whereas the mutts struggle to keep up.  
  
"I've found all of my gifts, Chara! This is my best time yet," Frisk exclaims happily, scooting up across from Chara's spot on the floor, their presents between their arms. They set the boxes down, press their back into Chara's former armchair, and look to see their aforementioned sibling lifting their head slowly, their eyelids hung low as they pretend to be bored.  
  
"I've been over here for ages already." Chara smiles slightly. "Must have counted the number of parcels thrice over, already." The smile grows. "I am terribly sorry, Frisk, but I do believe you've... lost," they exclaim, suddenly pretending to be shocked. Their true demeanor reasserts itself, however, and they lean forward, wrapping their arms around a large package, caressing the gift, smoothing the wrapping down with one hand. "Yet again." They pat the box at a fast pace for a moment, and Frisk glowers at their smug grin.  
  
"This is the second year in a row that you've beat me at this game. However, I should fancy there won't be a third. I shall practice diligently all year 'round, like a top athlete." Chara giggles at the thought of their sibling creating and sticking to such a training regiment. "They shall look at me and call 'there goes that Fast Frisk.'"  
  
"I find that highly doubtful," Chara says, with a mocking expression that quickly falls away as their gaze is drawn to their mother stating that everybody had their gifts, and that they were ready to be opened.

"What about Uncle Drosselmeier, though, Mother?" Frisk's gaze is also on their mother, as are a lot of the family members', but seeing as she was the only speaker when the announcement was made, and up until just now had still been so, for the most part, Frisk's voice sticks out like a red bow in a sea of clover.  
  
"When will he get here with his gifts?" Their mother shoots them a look, and they immediately tense. Their face begins to redden as they recall the multiple pairs of eyes focusing on them, and they amend, their voice starting:  
  
"And-- er, I do sorely miss him," they say, then trail off into a mumble, "his presence... as... well."  
  
Across the rug from them, Chara grimaces, furrowing their eyebrows, and they duck down lower, hugging their parcel tighter, feeling a sort of second-hand embarrassment on Frisk's behalf, as their sibling slowly, nervously lowers their hand.  
  
As if detecting the troubled soul that currently runs the danger of becoming a laughing stock, the sound of a doorknob twisting sounds out, easily heard by everyone in that well-furnished area of the home.  
  
The door is pushed open ever so slightly, just enough that it cannot return to a fully closed state once the doorknob is released.  
  
The quiet sounds of these proceedings, being watched carefully by every eye in the home, prepared none of them for what happens next: the door is kicked open so forcefully that one of the hinges nearly snaps off.  
  
A tall man stood in the doorway. He's wearing a tan... suit, of some sort. It has an odd, diamond-esque shape surrounding where the buttons held it together, where the undershirt and it's... strange neck accessory lie. The suit is lined with thin vertical stripes, but they make indentations: dips in the fabric that tailored to his rail-thin frame. A long, flowing scarf is billowing in the wind behind him, fluttering along with the breeze that is now carrying snow into the house, to Mother's (mostly) silent dismay, and, leaning over slightly, Frisk could see a makeshift trolley being pulled along by the man, its handle held tight by the man's thin, laced gloves. It's filled with mysterious objects of a variety of sizes.  
  
Frisk starts to hear a light 'thp thp,' and turns to see Chara smiling, quietly tapping their parcel in anticipation. Frisk turns back around, a curious excitement filling them as they hear the man's heavy boots against the floor, and the squeaking of the trolley as it is dragged indoors. He stops the trolley near the Christmas tree, and straightens out. Soon after, Chara startles as the cousin nearest to them jumps to his feet, runs over, and hugs the man's leg. He is initially startled by the sudden anchor being attached to him, but soon accounts for it. He raises his leg up with ease, and ruffles his hair. The child giggles, feeling the thin strands tickle his forehead, and his amusement is contagious, for the man joins in, chuckling in amusement.  
  
"NYEH HEH HEH!!"  
  
Frisk smiles warmly at the sight, and as the other children run past them to greet the man, they share a glance with Chara, before they too begin to climb to their feet, running over to greet their godfather, who by now is already surrounded by children.  
  
"Uncle Drosselmeier," they greet, waving their hand as they casually jog over to him.  
  
Chara sits for a moment, watching them run over to the man, who had by now removed his helmet to reveal his familiar skeletal features. They soon begin to nervously fidget, before they too rush over to greet the skeleton, scarcely wishing to end Christmas Eve by being pulled aside and given forty lashes by their mother when all is said and done.

**Author's Note:**

> The way that I had this written didn't really have a set ending, really, so I just tried to cut it off at what I thought might be a good point and hope for the best.
> 
> Remember: I'm looking for extra writers to help me out a little, because I really want this story to be good. All you need is the Wikipedia synopsis for Mousekonig and a bit of imagination. Getting someone like Eristatic would be great, honestly.


End file.
